


At the end of faith

by nirame



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "happy" end, 2014!Dean, Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Angst, BAMF!Cas, Bottom!Cas, Endverse, Future!Dean - Freeform, M/M, The End, fallen!cas, human!Cas, light Violence, mentioned Sam, mentioned dub-con, mentioned facefucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirame/pseuds/nirame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the moment Castiel knew it was over, because this time Dean didn't care anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the end of faith

**Author's Note:**

> 30.09.2013: Now beta'd! =D
> 
> !!DISCLAIMER:!!
> 
> I don’t own any of the characters, they are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.   
> The story as itself is my intellectual property, do not copy, cite, or distribute without permission.

This was the moment that Castiel knew it was over.  
That everything he had done, all his efforts, his disobedience and his fall had been for nothing.

....

Castiel and Dean started having sex a short while after Sam left.  
Castiel thought that maybe this carnal aspect of their relationship arose out of a mutually felt despair and loneliness, or perhaps as a natural evolution of the deep sense of camaraderie between them both.  
Maybe it was just a mixture of an unsatisfied lust on Deans part, focussed inevitably upon the one person available to him, plus the right dose of 'fuck-it-mindset' at the right time that brought them that extra step.

Cas didn't ever really know, nor did he ever really care.  
However, whatever it was that they had never could have been called a 'conventional romantic relationship'.

In the beginning, back in the early days, it was usually a very comforting and pleasant affair. A few special times it even managed to be tender and sweet.  
Dean had made sure that Castiel enjoyed himself and the angel repaid him in kind through his intimate worship.

They didn't do it very often; after all, they had enough work to do in the meantime.  
Hunting monsters, saving people and trying to keep as much of the world together as they could, keeping the apocalypse at bay, took almost every ounce of their attentions.

Especially without Sam.

The slow but steady wane of Castiel’s powers and the outbreak of the Croatoan-epidemic didn't exactly make things easier, either.

They had shared their fill of angry, bloody, violent sex before too. As times got rougher, so too did their relationship.  
But still, just before Dean put a firm hand on his chest and pushed, making Cas stumble and trip, he always checked for one particular thing.  
He never failed to ensure that every time Cas fell, there would be something remotely soft to catch him.  
Cas could trust him. Cas had faith in Dean.

Cas had always been full of faith. Not only that Dean would lead everything to a good end, saving humanity and the planet from the dire straits it had fallen into, but also that in those tangled, stolen moments of heat, Castiel could trust Dean.

Sometimes, though, Dean was far too rough for Castiel's merely human body.  
Those moments occurred more frequently as time drew on, particularly once it was realized that Sam had consented to the devil after parting with Dean in anger.

Castiel understood, and he wasn’t bothered by his dual role in Dean’s life after that, both as his lover and personal punching bag.

It didn’t matter, because Castiel knew that Dean cared about him, regardless of his actions.

Dean cared although he hurt Castiel every now and then.  
When he bit his lip so hard that it drew blood, slowly dripping down or being snatched into a raw, strong kiss.  
Every time he held himself back from biting as hard as he really wanted to, needed to, shuddering with the effort.

He cared when he shoved his dick past Castiel's lips, grabbing at his hair and yanking his head forward brutally to fuck his mouth.  
He would moan as he pleasured himself, Castiel’s mouth becoming little more than a tool for his control and abuse, but was always prepared to stop when Cas couldn't help coughing and gagging anymore.  
He never pressed his advantage, never came spurting down Cas’ throat without a warning, always pulled back a little, gave him just enough space to avoid choking him.

So Cas didn't complain.

This time Dean did not care anymore.  
Castiel sensed it, knew it in the split second before his back hit the hard floor, eyes wide with fright, before his head cracked sickeningly onto the ground and his vision blackened for a moment.  
The air left his lungs with a muffled sound at the impact and he lay there, on the rough wooden planks of the cabin, busy trying to breath properly again and adjusting to the new angle of view.  
The ache in his back made him groan and curl into himself slightly. He could feel a nasty throbbing, a wet pain pulsing from the back of his head and reverberating through his skull.

But beside the physical sensations, the bodily ache, there was this odd sense of emotion beginning to spread out within him.

Even after all this time, walking the earth inside the fleshy restrictions of his vessel, being amongst all these humans and gradually becoming more and more bound to this carnal frame himself, he still had difficulties feeling out and ordering all these unnatural emotions.  
Angels were never meant to _feel_ things like sympathy, or sadness, or guilt. There were plenty of them to go around, and way too often the distinction between two or more sentiments was so subtle, yet so important for their interpretation.

He tried to figure it out step by step, to track it down and point a finger at it.  
It didn't feel like anger or rage, but still there was this poisonous, thick feeling inside his throat. It wasn't even offense or insult, he'd become impervious to that long ago, after Dean’s steady stream of insults had intensified.

It was something on a completely different level, that deep down he had anticipated and feared from the very beginning of all this, of all the messy and painful incidents. It had loomed over Castiel’s very being, ever since he first felt the bewildering, unyielding need to help this human, now staring down from above him, eyes narrowed and cold like a predator.  
It was something that caused an numb, piercing sensation deep down in his gut.

He looked up at Dean's face and all he could see was bitterness.

Castiel realised that the most fitting definition for that feeling was disillusionment - and it brought with it resignation and surrender.  


Dean just didn't care anymore.  
He just seemed too tired, too lost in all this crap going on outside there, cut and torn and rubbed raw inside by the tangled barbwire of his own duties and failures.

Dean got down on his knees, shoving Castiel's legs apart to kneel between them and he harshly yanked on the left side of his hair, until his face was dragged up to meet his lips.  
It wasn't tender or sweet at all anymore. It was nothing but a rough, fierce press of flesh against flesh, with far too much teeth sinking into already chapped and dry lips and a carelessly bended position that made his whole back and head ache violently from earlier.  
Castiel’s face became pinched in indignation and pain and he brought his hands up and pushed at Dean’s, driving him back by his shoulders until he released his lips, his hands still keeping a solid hold on Cas hair.

"What's your problem, Cas?".  
Dean’s gruff voice was merely a low whisper against his lips. It was hollow, and completely apathetic.  
"You never bitched about it before".

He probably should have. He should've pulled him away, should've yelled at him to pull himself together again and stow his crap.  
Maybe he should've talked with Dean properly instead of just being there and waiting, taking everything without any complaint.  
Maybe, after all, it wasn't too late for that.

He pushed himself up and out of Dean’s harsh embrace, drawing himself up with what little grace he still possessed.  
"I do now."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments of any kind (critic, correction, smalltalk, ......), I hope you enjoyed.  
> Special thanks to my awesome beta yourguardianangel!


End file.
